


Scope and Crosshair

by oponn



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Murder Mystery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-08-19 23:19:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8228179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oponn/pseuds/oponn
Summary: Karen Page is desperately trying to build herself a new life - new job, new apartment, new vigilante terrorizing Hell's Kitchen. The deeper she digs the more she finds nothing has changed - Wilson Fisk still wants her dead, Matt Murdock still wants her 'safe' and Frank Castle is still in every shadow at every turn. As Karen tries to nail down a superpowered vigilante, Frank tries to prevent that same person from coming after her.





	1. Chapter 1

Frank had always preferred the cold.    
   
Hot, heavy and humid air never ceased to remind him of the desert and the horrors he'd experienced there. He hated summers because he slept fitfully and in short spurts borne by exhaustion. During the winter, he often got a solid amount of sleep during the mornings and into the early afternoon while reserving the comfort and ease of the darkness and cold to conduct his business.  

Even though he preferred the cold, it did nothing to make him immune to it. He could layer fancy fabric and expensive gear all he wanted but eventually his toes would go numb and his fingers would stiffen and then all of a sudden he was mostly chilled. Tonight was no exception, although he'd found an extremely advantageous spot that sheltered him from the wind and the prying eyes of people below. The fire escape on the top floor of the building across from the rear of Karen Page's new building disappeared into brick wall and had a solid floor. It hid in the shadow of the building, and Frank was well acquainted with shadows. To his surprise, it also afforded a perfect view into the living room and bedroom windows of Karen's apartment. He could see the front door through her living room and although her windows seemed to be equipped with both gauzy curtains and a solid white draw they seemed to not be tightly closed very often. Karen constantly had light soaking into her apartment.  

He'd finished his tall thermos of coffee and was growing bored of both monitoring her empty apartment for the fourth time this week and he was suspicious his scanner wasn't working because there was a distinct lack of police activity and sirens. There was a possibility that people were just staying inside and weren't out to screw over their fellow man, but Frank doubted it. Crime never slept.  

A light suddenly flickering on caught his attention and his monocular was attached to his aim eye immediately. It focused as Karen was taking off her coat and he quickly drew his brows together as he spied Matt Murdock, blind lawyer extraordinaire. They seemed to be slightly drunk, grinning widely and struggling out of jackets. The door shut and Karen draped her rich green coat over the back of her new couch. Most of her apartment was new, but he'd seen some unscathed items make it from her old place. Murdock's coat remained on and Frank's mouth twitched out a smirk as he watched Karen motion towards the kitchen, gesturing as Matt shook his head and hovered towards the door.  

Frank knew he wouldn't stay. He knew Murdock would play coy as soon as Karen had decided to forgive him for being Daredevil. Frank figured out the blind lawyer was a vigilante sitting in court, having a private conversation in code in front of the entire city. Shortly after Christmas and Red's raid on the Hand, the business shut down. Nelson was working in a shiny skyscraper and ordering asian women at night, Murdock was in and out of his apartment and impossible to pin down for a blind guy and Karen had taken to drinking heavily and talking to people she shouldn't about things she can't know. Frank watched over Karen, partially to keep tabs on Daredevil and partially for reasons he explained to himself as _owing_ her. Karen Page, savior and monster magnet. 

Frank did not know Matt Murdock but he was well associated with Daredevil. Red had an uncanny knack for running away from everything resembling a life while pretending to try to build one for himself. Frank had decided Red was a fool. He had a chance to have everything that Frank wanted and he ran from it like it was scarier than beating people with his fists.  

They were obviously getting more heated now, Karen was using her hands erratically and often kept her right arm folded over her stomach and her left elbow balanced on her right hand. Her left hand would be up, pressed against her mouth. Her back was to him but he knew her mannerisms. 

Murdock said something and they both stilled. Frank's breathing slowed and he strained to hear despite the distance.  

Karen's back straightened and she approached Murdock. Her elbows were moving, indicating she was moving her hands and Frank's throat constricted as suddenly her blouse seemed to slacken and slip down her back. Murdock was saying something, backing away slowly as she advanced. Her hands twisted back and unclasped the black band around her ribcage and Frank sat back and put the monocular on his lap, strangely unsettled. His scanner was flickering with words and he barely registered the wail of a siren some blocks away as his mind warred with itself – this was an invasion of privacy. It wasn't a view her neighbors didn't have, he reasoned. He shouldn't be looking because he respected her and she deserved to have that. Frank groaned aloud slightly, letting the back of his head knock against the brick.  

A smaller, oilier voice was inching its way through his mind. This voice reminded him how long it had been since he'd admired a woman. An attractive woman. A woman he found attractive that also looked at him with a shimmer of depth and mystery to her thoughts. Women only looked at men like that when they thought about them with their eyes closed, Frank knew this much. He knew he'd never be first choice, as he'd never want to be. He couldn't be a shadow of the type of man that Karen deserved but it didn't stop him from being a shadow of a man that craved her.  

Frank raised the monocular, focusing immediately on his target. Karen was pressed against Matt, their jaws flexing as they fused at mouth. His larger hands encompassed her breast, and the other hand was tangled in her hair. She appeared to be the aggressor, plundering his mouth and pressing her body against his. Frank knew that Red could easily overpower her, so he was merely holding back and letting her but if one weren't in the know she would seem almost abusive. One of her hands seemed to grab his short hair and yank it. He seemed to fight her, saying something and causing her to cover his words with her mouth and give his hair another commanding jerk he submitted to. The back of Frank's scalp tingled with jealousy and he shifted as desire lit in his groin. She was a vision of pale skin down to her waist and Frank's eye devoured it, his finger absently ticking the knob on the zoom to it's fullest. It didn't get much closer, but he could see clearly when her wrists were claimed and controlled and Murdock separated from her onslaught. He seemed to be admonishing her and she immediately stood straight and took a few steps back. He seemed to reply to words Frank didn't see and then she turned to the window, one hand combing back her hair and the other resting on her hip in a sign of distress.  

The distress would bother Frank if he wasn't suddenly beholden her breasts; time seemed to slow eerily for him like sand going from one end of a time turner. They were perfect, sitting perkily on her chest and boasting round, peony pink nipples. They perfectly complimented her milky skin and the smattering of brown moles over her stomach and rib cage. She was lithe and lean, a runners clean build with slender shoulders. Frank couldn't even bring himself to compare her to the wicked curvaciousness of Maria's Cuban body. The two were worlds apart and equally breathtaking.  

Frank was a man who could appreciate beauty, no matter how complex or how simple. He treasured it, was awed by it and sought to destroy all that threatened it. Karen stopped and picked up her bra, seeming to twist it around herself and secure it with ease. Red was talking to her, reasoning with her and she was shaking her head and angrily replying without turning around. Frank was both disappointed and bemused, as Red seemed to have stepped in it and bungled his chances at civil conversation.  

Suddenly, Frank's scanner started typing and flashed a short light. Frank checked it, frowned and looked across at the apartment. The police were responding to a call of a body on the steps of the court house, which was always a political move and Frank needed to get a handle on what was currently the murderous trend of the city. Red should really be on his own way there, get his feet on the ground. Frank fixed the monocular and spied Karen had rounded on him and they were both talking very angrily at each other. Karen was pointing erratically above her, seemingly into the sky. Murdock had his hand out, palm out in an instinctive situational command. Frank rolled his eyes at the idiot's attempt to quell what was very definitely a raging woman from the way she had slightly bent over and was snapping one arm around.  

Frank sighed and deflty packed his mini setup into his duffel and slung it over his back. He gently rose to a standing position and could clearly see the form of Karen disappearing around the wall into the kitchen. He watched Murdock lean against the wall, shirt still gaping open. He repeated Frank's earlier action and dropped his skull against plaster a few times.  

"Ah, never say I never did nothing for you," Frank said loudly. He saw Red's head come off the wall, face snapping towards the window like a dog hearing the mailman. Frank placed one booted foot on the fire escape rail and grabbed the ledge of the roof. With a grunt and use of his gunned arm, he swung up and stood on the rooftop, looking at the alleyway below. He could see a small Murdock standing in Karen's living room. He turned and walked confidently across the roof, chuckling to himself as he approached the street of the next block. He raised his arm and fired twice in the air, letting the shots ring out loudly over the streets.  

Frank holstered and breathed in the night air, ears ringing like a bell. He knew Murdock would be sprinting along any moment and he should probably get to the courthouse first. Idly, his mind went to Karen and how upset she'd be in her apartment, alone with Murdock running after gunshots. He found he was more interested in creating distance between the two. Red shouldn't be with her either if he's not willing to be the man she deserves. Karen was a fierce flame, but she was one match in the face of the wind of Hell's Kitchen. Frank would be the hand that braces that flame.  

This is the bargain he works out with himself. Close to the flame, but not enough to be burned by it or snuff it out. After all, Frank Castle is a fan of the cold.   


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen has a chat after almost being run over.

Karen found herself resentful that her main priority at The Bulletin was Daredevil.  

The news office was a calamity of noise and movement from the second the elevator doors opened. The sudden surge of people moving around her out of the elevator into the main proof floor made Karen start, having been awed by the explosion of activity.  

Clutching her coffee cup with her brown jacket thrown over her arm, Karen walked the perimeter of the bullpit heading towards her office where she probably had 7000 voicemails and 5000 emails to sort through to add to her growing wall of Daredevil. Her running column was a mass profile of the works and deeds of Daredevil, as reported by the city. The public at large had taken a dubious approach to the recent surge of vigilantism operating in their city and was seemingly doing it's part to monitor and track the acts of so-called heroes.  

Karen's stomach twisted as she noted her office door was ajar before she reached it and she paused before taking a deep breath and breezing into the room. Ellison was perched on the back of the green leather couch centering Ben's old office. He had a file folder open on his knee and was casually thumbing through the paperwork.  

"Good morning," Karen greeted, scurrying behind her desk and looking at the clock on the wall that indicated she was roughly 3 minutes late.  

"If you call frantic chaos a good morning, then yes, I suppose it is," Ellison replied without looking up at her. Karen turned her computer screen on and typed her password in to log in, curiously keeping one eye on the editor. She sensed he wasn't laying in wait for her because her office was an oasis of neon post-it notes. The computer clicked and whirred and Karen sat after hanging her coat and checking the day planner on her desk. The green light flashing on her phone was her first task but she didn't want to be rude and begin listening to reports of Daredevil for follow-up while Ellison was obviously in a mood.  

Awkwardly, she opened her email and re-arranged pens and shuffled paperwork. It took her about 5 minutes to realize the folder he was reading was hers. About the time she realized that, he snapped it shut and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Karen stayed still, her anxiety rubbing against her diaphragm like a cat wanting attention. Her mind was quietly going in millions of directions with millions of different questions.  

Ellison tossed the file on her desk and looked at the Daredevil wall behind it, pressing his thumb under his chin and his knuckle into his lips pensively. Karen's patience was fraying like a rope at maximum tensile strength.  

"So, where are you on this?" He asked finally. Karen looked at the wall with wide eyes as a massive question mark started to form in her mind.  

"On....on Daredevil? I....We've estimated he's about 27 to 35 years old, definitively 6 feet. 200-ish pounds but very agile. He's caucasian and...and...we're assuming a history of service with police forces or the military. At least a familiarity and loyalty to the justice system," Karen rambled nervously, casting her fingertips about the papers on her desk for more details on Daredevil that didn't point directly to Matt. "But, I was under the impression I'm not trying to reveal his identity. I thought we agreed that unless he wanted to reveal..." 

"I don't want to reveal his identity but he has something to do with what's going on out there," Ellison cut her off, looking at her with tired but alert eyes. There was a hardness there that hadn't been there previously. He seemed to be angry, if not resolved to some determination.  

"What _is_ going on out there?"  

Ellison frowned at her briefly and she flushed slightly as he got up and wandered into the hallway. It wasn't becoming of a journalist to have no idea what the main craze was before going to work. She was supposed to eat, sleep and breathe news but simply hadn't had the time that morning. Her mind was swimming with thoughts of Daredevil and Matt and kissing Matt. She'd forgotten herself and for the first time had taken Frank Castle's advice and seized the day. For the first time, she'd pressed him and gotten somewhere. She'd gotten him to admit he was crazy for her, helpless to her demands. She'd also backed him into a corner and he'd confessed her life was worth more to him than her happiness and that her relationship to him risked her life.  

Something he wasn't willing to do. Karen felt like a favourite doll with a loose seam that had been put on a shelf for a child to love from afar. Predictably, gunshots had sounded like they always do in New York and he was gone by the time she returned from splashing cold water on her face. Ellison returned with a newspaper in his hand and he tossed it at her. She caught it clumsily and turned it over, seeing the days copy of The Bulletin.  

 ** _HELL'S KITCHEN ON GUARD FOR HUMAN TARGET SHOOTER_**  

"What?" Karen said aloud, rifling through the pages and opening the main story.    
   
"The police have been burying it but last night a third body was left on the front steps of the courthouse with a target painted on their foreheads. Every victim had previously had a visit from Daredevil. I want to get ahead of this speeding train. We don't want to be the last paper in the city hailing a murderer as a hero," Ellison said with a tired and gruff voice. Karen was shaking her head already, eyes flying over the words of the article detailing the execution style shootings to the temple and the descriptions of the victim's professional and personal profiles.  

"He didn't do this. That's not what he's about. He puts people into jail, he's not a murderer. It completely goes against everything that he stands for," Karen was saying as panic tinted her voice. It was getting higher and the words were starting to slur together. Ellison held out a calming hand as he looked at her wall of information, the map of Daredevil fight sites and on-the-street sightings.  

"We just have to be aware that this man has opened the doors for others like him. It's only a matter of time before he will be getting the blame for it. Daredevil's purpose is defeated if the people he visits and sets straight are then followed up and murdered because some asshole has decided the Devil's not doing a good enough job," Ellison assuaged her as Karen raked her fingers through her hair and poured over the article with distress written on her face. "At the same time, we have our jobs to think about and maybe as our lead Daredevil expert you should be the one leading the charge in asking ourselves the hard questions. Who is Daredevil? Is he going to be around long? What's his end goal? What is he going to do about the people like him who are now breaking the laws? Does he know who did this? Is he okay with that? What was his involvement with Frank Castle? Why didn't he try to stop The Punisher? These are all questions we all have but no one has the answers to or the gumption to ask. I need you to start asking these questions. This," He gestured at the wall with general wariness. "This is all part of an old angle now. We don't need to know what he's been doing we need to know what he's going to do. We need to know if he's actually a good thing or a bad thing because right now, things are leaning towards bad." 

"How can he be the protector of Hell's Kitchen if he won't deal with the forces that he brings to directly threaten it," Karen filled in the summary question with a dead, listless voice. Ellison snapped his fingers and pointed them at her triumphantly.  

"Exactly. Also, I'd like to begin a profile of this new person. Let's run with the opinion that this is not Daredevil or someone working with Daredevil. This is a new player on the field and I want to have our ears on the ground. As such, I know that you won't be able to handle all this on your own so I've arranged for a volunteer publishing assistant to help you on roughly 7-10 hours of development and information- moving a week. I figured that would help with the process," Ellison announced as he got up and walked to the door while Karen stared at his now empty spot in surprise. She floundered like a docked fish for a moment before nodding and nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. 

"Yes, no that's perfect. Thank-you," She trailed off but Ellison didn't wait and with a wink he leaned forwards and shut her door, muffling the stream of phones ringing and newscasting and people shouting for one another outside. The analog clock of Ben's on the far wall suddenly had an enormously loud tic and a deafening toc. Karen put her elbows on the desk and dropped her forehead into her hands, staring down at the words of the article. There was a black and white photo of a body, sprawled on a diagonal across 13 shallow marble steps with a haunting white sheet draped over it. A dark gray stain marred the top of the sheet over the small round that was presumably a head.  

She found herself suddenly wondering if this was indeed a 'new player' or if this was Frank trying a new approach. Seemed a tad inelegant with the garish display of the bodies. Karen studied the photo with intent eyes.  

The Punisher was about the punishment; for Frank the act of dying was penance enough for their misdeeds. This posing and dumping of the bodies was a clear message and political move. Dumping the bodies at the courthouse steps were just another enigma adding to the puzzle.  

Karen tsked to herself as she sat up and smoothed her hair back into place. Irritably, she shoved the paper to her right and sent it scattering to the floor before she pulled her lined notepad toward her, clicked her favourite pen and took a swig of coffee.  

She opened up the internet, typed keywords into her search engine and spent a few hours on the computer picking through news stories and taking notes of various details both repeated correctly and incorrectly laced with details that not any one production had. She searched the victims, their families and did individual background workups on all. All three victims had been male, over 30 and had a middle class lifestyle. They also had family members claiming that all three had had violent encounters with Daredevil which left them battered and scared. Karen rolled her eyes, knowing what types of people Matt batters and scares and that  they weren't the type that deserved media sympathy. Two were divorced, one never married and only one had a child, thankfully. They were a garbage truck driver, nightclub bouncer and bartender respectively and all had ties to various organizations and gangs Karen knew were all hogtied to Wilson Fisk.  

She wrote his name at the bottom of the last page blackened with her note taking and underlined it twice. Something in her brain was niggling, trying to pull up something that she couldn't place. She was on to something with this but she wasn't sure what or how it related together. Hours slipped by, seemingly melding with the obnoxious tapping of her pen on the desk as she scrolled through image results and trolled The Bulletin's database for any leaked crime scene photos that may have come in. Eventually Karen felt her steam leaving her and noted her coffee was done. Stretching, she arose and applied her jacket before deciding to hit up the taco cart at the end of the block. With a deep breath and a sharp shake of her head to clear it, she shouldered her purse and left her office.  

 

                                                                                                  ___

 

 

Karen moved through a sea of people jostling left and right where appropriate to avoid collision. She stopped at a stop light, checking the time she had left in her break on her phone. The light turned and she walked across the crosswalk in the throng of people. A wave of humans going the opposite direction across the street eclipsed hers. Karen's idle gaze caught familiar hard, dark eyes set under a dark brow. Castle's chiseled features were unmistakable from the hours she'd spent pouring over photos of him in the Army and Karen's mind immediately froze. She stopped dead in the middle of the street, turning as she lost connection with his eyes and trying to follow his head. A man grunted as he walked into her and another woman cried out as she walked into him, others getting in Karen's view as she struggled to turn and go back in the direction Frank went.  

"What are you doing, lady?!" An irritated man snapped, slamming his shoulder into her upper arm as he pushed by. Karen reeled, her eyes searching frantically, bouncing from one dark head to another. Where did he go? What was he doing? Why was he here? Was that actually him? Suddenly, the crowds were gone and she was alone in the middle of the street. Immediately, the light turned. Karen looked at the green light and the suddenly at the faces of the people waiting on the sidewalk looking at her in confusion before three separate horns blared loudly. She flinched, holding up her hands and apologetically running as fast as her boots and pencil skirt would allow. People stepped aside to allow her onto the curb and she plunged past them, her face flushed with humiliation. She walked as quickly as she could, refusing to let herself stop while her mind slipped over itself with questions. Could she even trust her mind? Why would Frank Castle be wandering the streets of New York when his face was plastered all over Hell's Kitchen not that long ago? Why wouldn't he contact her if he's going to be around? Was he even around? Is she going insane? Was he following her, even though she told him to he was dead to her? Why was she feeling this way if he was dead to her? Why did she feel like she was looking for him?  

She routed a zig-zag pattern through the mere blocks back to the office, giving in to the instinct to check over her shoulder a few times. Finally she turned down a back alley, heading for the rear entrance of the building that housed The Bulletin. It was lined with silver and gray reporters vehicles, nice and nondescript and various plain white vans. She worked on her elevated breathing, inhaling to a count and exhaling to a count. Her flushed face could be blamed on the winter wind and her watering eyes blamed on the cold exposure. The hammering heart and heaving chest from jogging a few blocks in heeled boots in snow was unmistakable however and that would cause concern.  

A loud grinding noise directly to her right shocked her and she barely had time to turn as two black arms emerged from the side of a van and wrapped around her. Her shriek was cut off by a thick glove and she was hauled sideways into the van, crashing painfully against the floor. Pressure was taken off her body and the sound of the door being rolled shut behind her caused her to thrash.  

"GET OFF ME!" Karen yelled, kicking violently as the body on top of her attempted to control her arms going for the snub nosed pistol in her purse. He grunted when her elbow connected with what felt like the side of a head and then a hand clamped on the back of her neck and pressed her face into the metal bottom of the van. Karen found she was too angry to cry and continued to fight back as her arm was twisted back behind her, pulling and pushing opposite the wishes of the person smothering her.  

"Hey hey, you're just hurting yourself, ease up. Ease up," A deep husky voice told her from just over her right shoulder. Castle's voice was a deep, rumbling baritone and was weathered through what sounded like years of screaming. The lilt of his New York accent gave him away immediately and she stopped struggling to breathe in huge gulps of stale, metallic floor air. After a few moments, he moved off her and let the pressure on her arm and on her back go. He seemed to settle gracefully on the floor of the van by the latch for the door. His presence wasn't merely his size but also the way he handled himself so nonchalantly and gracefully. He sat back, leaning his head back and lifting his chin as he surveyed her cautiously. The angle highlighted his fuller upper lip and the faintly yellow and green flats of his healing forehead. His brow and left cheekbone were purple. There was an angry red welt on the side of his jaw from one of her blows and it stuck out against the coarse darkening of his five o'clock shadow. Karen sat up, curling her legs underneath her and inspecting a bleeding scratch on her knee. Her jammed elbow and shoulder throbbed and she rubbed it absently as she leant against the side of the van. Finally, she looked at him and found him already looking at her, eyes unwavering and clear. His familiar black irises were carefully blank and his expression was the familiar guarded look he reserved for lawyers and cops. The only difference was he wasn't scowling at her with his mouth; a softness remained in his face. Almost like masked pain.   

"What do you want?" She asked furiously. Her tone was wrecked, shredded with anger and withheld tears. Frank was watching her, like he was waiting for something she was unsure of. He almost seemed like he wanted to say something, probably about her last words to him and she knew immediately she didn't want to hear it. Anything he had to say about murdering the only person who could credibly clear his name she had no interest in.  

He remained silent for a moment, watching her, before leaning his head to the side thoughtfully. 

"I need Red, and I know you know him," Frank finally answered with a certain edge to his voice. It was almost accusatory and Karen felt her neck start to sweat. She had always been confident Frank Castle wouldn't hurt her but she wasn't so sure about The Punisher. She didn't trust what would and wouldn't set him off on a murderous rampage. A part of her brain sized him up realizing there were no double back doors on this van and she knew he'd watched her eyes go to all the exits. He shifted his legs impatiently at her silence, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows. Reminding her she needed to answer.  

"I don't," Karen found herself choking out, holding the sleeves of her coat in clenched fists as she curled against the wall more. He pulled his lower lip back over his teeth, jutting his jaw and letting himself send an incredulous look at the roof of the van as he scoffed a chuckle.  

"Come on, let's not play dumb. He stops by a balcony a block away from your building and sits facing your windows for approximately 13 minutes between 11pm to 12:30am every night. And that's even on the nights he's invited in. I need to get a message to Murdock," Castle reiterated, recounting terrifying details with militant accuracy. Karen slammed a lid on the pot boiling over with questions about Matt and sat up on her knees, grabbing for her purse and satchel as her cheeks flushed with anger.  

"You'd only know this if _you're_ sitting outside my house too. Unbelievable, the both of you. You just can't leave it alone after you make decisions for people, can't just let people have their lives and just-," She ranted while rebuttoning a gap in her peacoat and reaching for the handle. He grabbed her wrist, clamping down on it tightly and she faced him fiercely, glaring back into his eyes with her own ice chip blue ones.  

"There's something going on that I need information on. I know he has it but something has gotten into Red's pajamas and getting him on my speed dial is difficult in the current political climate," Frank growled as his eyes knowingly searched her face. "You are a danger magnet and he seems to know that too. 1+1 equals 2 everywhere in the world, ma'am." 

"Well, then just wait. It's only a matter of time before life finds a way to try to kill me again and he won't be far behind. Seems to be a fetish you two share," Karen snapped before ripping open the door of the van and clambering out. She caught his reaction as a mixture of affrontment and surprise before she slammed the door shut in his face.  

There was a brief moment of silence while Karen panted a few breaths and then looked up and down the alley. The van shifted and coughed to life as Karen collected herself and shouldered her thoroughly abused bag. Her heart was thrumming against her ribcage like a trapped hummingbird and she was shaky and suddenly exhausted. The van drove up the alley and splashed through puddles before casually signaling a left turn and then rounded the corner from her view. She watched it go with a sensation of loss eating a hole in her chest and a choked throat. The relief at seeing him again surprised her more than being dragged unceremoniously into a van in a dark alley.  

Karen eventually turned and entered the building after punching her access code, completely missing the figure hunched on the fire escape on the third floor of the opposite building. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my world, karen is still pretty pissed about the shack thing and wasn't aware that frank has known who matt is basically since the day in court after the rooftop incident. 
> 
> apologies for slow start - life is hectic.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i will be continuing. i'm a slut for feedback.


End file.
